Left 4 Dead: My Zombie's Keeper
by Shei B. Kroeker
Summary: A young medschool intern seeks to develop a cure for the infection while houseing several Special Infected individuals whom she managed to somewhat civilize. Can she do it before time runs out?
1. Prologue: First Infections

My Zombie's Keeper

A Zombie Apocalypse Fan-Fiction  
By Sheida McCall

_Prologue__:  
__First Infections_

Henry Ford Hospital  
Detroit, Michigan  
Circa October 2009

"What do you think it is, Doctor?" the nurse asked after sedating the patient, "I've never encountered anything like it before."

"I'm sure you've seen _something_ similar," the doctor countered matter-of-factly, "It is rabies."

"_Rabies?_" the nurse raised an eyebrow in disbelief, "Impossible! As deadly as it is, even _that_ couldn't alter someone's behavior so radically like this poor man."

The doctor did not bother to argue with her as he began to walk out of the hospital for a smoke. Instead, he just handed her the lab report so that she could see for herself. She looked over the papers skeptically at first, then her eyes went wide with horror. According to the TOX, it really _was_ rabies that had afflicted the young man strapped to his bed, but it was not the common strand that humankind was familiar with. The symptoms were relatively the same: swollen brain, high fever, hydrophobia, violent behavior, vomiting…except for the odd petechial hemorrhaging all over the unnaturally white, pasty skin and the random bursts of strength when the patient tried to break his bonds before being put under.

"Wha—what does this mean?" the nurse stammered.

"Something has caused the rabies virus to mutate," the doctor explained as he lit his cigarette, "That 'something' could have been in the patient himself or in an animal he night have been bitten by. Hell, he could have gotten it from contaminated food for all we know. Either way, we'll have to keep him quarantined for an indefinite time."

"Can we…cure him? Can we even _treat_ him?"

The doctor shrugged; "There's no telling," he said taking a long drag off his cigarette and exhaled, creating smoke circles as he often did in such contemplative situations, "It's not likely the current rabies vaccine will have any effect, considering how rare a rabies outbreak is, and it could take months—maybe years—to perfect it enough to treat this new strain. Unfortunately, we have no way of knowing how quickly the virus can spread, and _that_ means that no matter how quickly we find a cure, we'll never be able to produce enough to account for all those who become infected."

As the doctor continued puffing on his cigarette, the nurse covered her mouth in horrific realization; "And if it was contracted through food," she said in a tight voice, "then our John Doe may not have even been the first case…"

The doctor shook his head; "I can't say for sure if he's the first," he said as he stomped his cigarette out, "but I can promise you he won't be the last."

"There's a comforting thought," the nurse responded sarcastically.

The two of them walked back into the hospital and towards their quarantined patient's room to observe his progress. _Maybe we're wrong,_ the nurse hoped silently, _maybe this really is just an isolated case. Yeah…there's no way this virus can be widespread already without us knowing about it, could it? No, of course not! The entire nation would be in a state of panic if that were so! We caught this early enough…we can fix it!_ No sooner had the nurse completed her thoughts that the sound of wild screams began echoing through the halls of the hospital! Instinctively, the doctor and nurse ran towards these screams which seemed to have been coming from the Emergency Ward. Their pace quickened double-time at the deafening sound of repeating gunfire!

"What's going on in here?!" the doctor demanded when they entered the room.

Two security guards quickly grabbed them and pulled them into the safety of one of the cubicles; "Stay down," one ordered, "Two extremely sick people came in begging to see a doctor, but before the receptionist could even admit them, they just went crazy! I don't know what got into them, but they attacked the poor woman in such a way that can only be described as cannibalistic!"

"_Cannibalism_?!" the nurse shrieked, "You mean they _ate her_?"

"Or at least effectively tore her to shreds," the guard answered, "her and about three guards, a nurse, and a couple of L and D's."

"My God!" the nurse whimpered, "This _can't_ be rabies…it just _can't_ be!"

"It's worse than I thought," the doctor sighed, ignoring the woman's outburst, "The virus and its effects have spread so rapidly that our chances of even _beginning_ to find a cure have just dropped to zero! These people are already in the advanced stages of psychosis—they're nothing more than mindless, raging monsters now!"

Just then, the second security guard began swaying weakly; "Ooh…man, I don't feel so good," he moaned, then collapsed in his partner's arms.

"You okay, bud?" the first guard asked worriedly.

The second guard only moaned louder in response, like he was in pain. The doctor knelt beside him and began examining him. He found human bite marks on the young man's forearm which prompted him to give a hopeless look to the other guard.

"You're friend's been infected," he said, "I don't know how long it will take for him to succumb to the virus, but judging by your account of those two who attacked you, I wager it will be within minutes…he'll turn on us."

"D-d-don't let th-that happen t-to me!" the sick guard begged his partner as he vomited all over himself, "K-kill me! P-p-please!"

The two argued for about two minutes before the first guard finally agreed to euthanize his friend. The nurse buried her scream into the doctor's shoulder as the shot rang out. Now there was one less person in the world that could spread the infection. Regrettably, that single gunshot to the young man's head alerted the other two infected individuals to their location. Even more unfortunate was the fact that "two" had already become "eight"!

"Son," the doctor addressed the security guard casually when he caught sight of the miniscule horde, "I hope to God you've got enough bullets in that peashooter to go around."

"That's just what I was thinkin', Doc!"

Without another word, the guard aimed his sidearm at the Infected and fired several shots off before having to reload his weapon. Then, grabbing his dead partner's pistol, he ordered the doctor and the nurse to grab something heavy to use for a melee weapon and to get behind him. They complied quickly as a new set of screams reached their ears. The small group of survivors fought their way back into the main hallway of the hospital where the screams mingled with vicious snarls became much louder. Suddenly, the doctor and nurse locked eyes in a terrible realization.

"The John Doe!" they shouted in unison.

"How could we have forgotten about him?" the nurse berated herself and the doctor.

"What are you guys talking about?" the guard asked as he cleared the way to the elevator, completely amazed by the sudden burst of numbers in the zombie horde—it was already up to twenty-five!

"Our first encounter with the virus," the doctor explained once he was able to catch his breath, "was with a John Doe patient in Room 201. Judging by those screams, I'd say he's managed to break out!"

"Well," the guard huffed sarcastically, "things just keep getting better and better, don't they?"

The elevator stopped on the second floor where the trio hoped to stop the spread of the virus in its tracks by taking out John Doe. They were not, however, prepared for what awaited them when the elevator doors opened! A horde of at least twenty new zombie-like infected people sprinted at them, alerted by the "ding" of the elevator. If he had not been scared out of his wits, the doctor would have been scientifically intrigued and curious about how the virus could have possibly spread so quickly and effectively in such a short time. There was certainly no time to ponder that now while they were fighting for their lives. The security guard claimed several perfect headshots whit his dual pistols while the nurse and doctor displayed their almost professional batting skills with the lead pipes they had found earlier. Just when they thought they had defeated all the infected, they felt the entire building shake!

"What the hell's going on now?" the guard shouted over the rumbling, "An earthquake?"

"In Michigan?" the nurse reminded him as she grabbed a hold of a water fountain to sustain her balance.

The rumbling and shaking became more intense and was soon accompanied by a bone-chilling roar of pure ferocity. The survivors did not even have time to think as a massive creature burst into the hallway right in front of them. It was a enormous bulk of a man that could easily shame the Incredible Hulk, his upper lip had receded over his teeth, and his lower jaw appeared to be missing as his swollen tongue hung out dripping with tainted saliva. Although it was impossible to conceive that this _thing_ was ever once a human, the doctor was quick to recognize this mess of muscle as their John Doe. The humans immediately turned tail and ran, but the monster pursued them in a relentless rage. The security guard shot as he ran until both pistols were depleted of ammunition, but it did not seem to do any good whatsoever against their assailant.

"It's like blowing spit wads at an army tank!" he said as he hurled the useless weapons at the large Infected.

There was nothing else they could do now except run! The monster chased them all the way back downstairs to the hospital's lobby where, to their horror, the largest horde of zombies had gathered in wait. They were trapped well, and the zombies began moving in on them. They tried to hold them off, but all they managed to do was attract more and more of the Infected. The monster zombie was still on their tails, too, and before long, the three lone humans were overwhelmed.

"I guess this is good-bye!" the guard shouted frantically, "May God have mercy on us and grant us quick, painless deaths!"

"Amen!" the doctor agreed as he threw down his weapon in defeat.

The nurse—who was Catholic—sobbed silently as she traced the symbol of the cross over her body. Then, the inevitable: the Tank zombie finally caught up with them. With one mighty swing of his arms, he sent the survivors—along with a great many lesser zombies—hurdling across the lobby and crashing into the concrete wall, crushing their bodies, and thus granting them their quick and painless deaths just moments before the rest of the zombies swarmed them and feasted on their flesh.

Thus began the end of the world by a Zombie Apocalypse!


	2. Chapter 1: Weeks Later

Chapter One:  
Weeks Later

Abandoned Building Roof  
Pittsburg, Pennsylvania  
October 19, 2009

"I hate surprise attacks," Francis complained once he and the other three survivors made it to the temporary safety of the roof of the abandoned building, "How the fuck did we get so damned lucky to have every fucking Special come out to play with us at once? I mean, first Louis pissed off that Witch _and_ got pounced by a Hunter—nice save by the way, Zoey—then a Smoker got Bill—you're welcome for the ass-saving, old man—a Boomer tried to slime us—he missed, but he tried, damnit—and to top it all off, we all nearly became the unwilling objects of a Tank's 'affections'! I ask you again: how did we get so fucking lucky?!"

Francis continued his angry ranting without any interruption from the others even as he went into his all-to-familiar "I Hate List." Bill, Louis, and Zoey had all grown accustomed to the muscular and tattooed biker's random fits knowing that it would do them no good to tell him to calm down and "let it go." They had even partially given up on correcting Francis of the proper term for the infected humans being "zombies" and not "vampires" as he called them.

"Francis," Bill, a former Green Beret, finally spoke up as he lit his sixth straight cigarette, "whenever you think you can spare the time to stop your bitchin', would you let us know so that we can move on? 'Cause I don't know about you, but I for one would rather have a good night's sleep in the safe house than get stuck camping up here out in the open of this rooftop."

At first, Francis glared at Bill in annoyance, but thought better of talking back. He simply grumbled his acknowledgement though he continued to complain under his breath. Louis and Zoey opted to stay out of that confrontation this time, preferring instead to utilize the time to nurse their recent wounds and to reload their weapons. After all, if they had learned anything from joining and traveling with Bill, it was that this ex-soldier did not like staying in one place for too long—especially when they were being chased by flesh-hungry monsters. Even now it was still so hard for any of them to believe that just a few weeks ago these zombies were normal humans like them—before the virus broke out.

Doctors and scientists called it a new—possibly mutated—strain of rabies that caused multiple, painfully unbearable symptoms leading up to psychosis. These symptoms were generally the same as those shown by the common strain of the disease except it navigated the bloodstream at a much faster rate and depleted oxygen within the body almost like it was being suffocated from the inside—which would account for the pasty white skin and apparent petechial hemorrhaging all over. Infected humans would mentally regress to a primal state driven by an insatiable hunger for clean flesh. Even so, the typical zombie kept to itself, hunkering down in tight, dark places quite content to be left alone. If one were to observe from a safe enough distance, they would see that the zombies still showed some signs of their former humanity buried deep within. However, at the first sight or scent of one who was not infected, the zombies would be driven further into insanity as they would suddenly attack and—if one were unlucky enough—actually _eat_ their victim. Individually, the zombies were not much of a threat to a fleeing survivor, but in large groups, they were a force to be reckoned with. Still, they were easily dealt with considering their high sensitivity to bright lights and high-pitched sounds. These things not only alerted the zombies to potential food, but it also caused them great pain triggering a mad rage in an effort to destroy whatever ailed them.

Many non-infected groups traveling together have managed to utilize the zombie's attraction to light and sound to their advantage. Specifically, pipe bombs were being customized to carry battery-powered smoke detectors that went off after the bomb's fuse was lit, and it drew a great number of infected safely away from survivors before exploding and killing them. This ploy, however, rarely—if ever—worked on Specials.

Special Infected—deemed such by what few doctors were left in the world searching for a cure—were individuals who mutated into smarter, stronger creatures capable of incapacitating their victims quickly. It is still unclear what caused the mutations, though some speculate it may have something to do with the personal health of the individual before infection. Whatever the case may be, Specials were not to be taken lightly.

Back on the roof, Bill and his fellow survivors were resting as much as they could before having to continue out.

"I'm with Bill," Louis said after patching himself up, "If we wanna make it to the safe house before it gets any darker, we'll need to move soon. I got a pretty good feeling we'll make it, no sweat."

"I ever tell you I _hate_ optimists?" Francis growled in annoyance.

Louis narrowed his eyes; "Only once every day," he confirmed through gritted teeth.

"Oh, good, 'coz for a moment there I thought you were feeling left out, what with my personal ranting and all. And why the hell are you still wearing that gay-ass tie? You got a meeting or something?"

"Ha, ha, ha, Francis," Louis retorted sarcastically, "you're one to talk about wardrobe…like that vest. What do you think this is? A biker convention? You should take that vest and your chaps and go join a parade!"

For the first time in a long time, Francis felt genuinely insulted; "I don't see what's wrong with the vest," he moped as he wiped off a bit of zombie blood from his shoulder, "I don't wear chaps…and I hate parades…"

He was mostly mumbling to himself so the others did not bother getting annoyed by the newest thing Francis hated. Besides that, they had other more pressing matters to tend to.

"Hey, guys!" Zoey spoke up, "I found a hand-held CB transceiver! Maybe we can each someone at the EVAC location?"

"Provided they're still there," Bill pointed out grimly as usual as he took the transceiver from Zoey's outstretched hand and examined it, "_and_ provided we can get some batteries for this piece of shit."

"There's a hardware store across the street," Francis offered, carefully leaning over the edge of the roof, "uh, that is, across the street through a horde of them rabid vampires, amongst a potential death trap of cars that—with our fucked-up luck—are fully equipped with the latest in vampire-attracting alarm systems. I hate cars with alarms."

"Let's go then," Bill said, "We'll have to go through them eventually; might as well get it over with now."

The others agreed as they gathered as many supplies as they could carry without weighing themselves down. Bill, a former Green Beret, had built a couple of pipe bombs for everyone to carry in case they got cornered by a horde of the Commons. He led the way into the building via a roof maintenance door, revealing the place to have once been an apartment complex of sorts. Bill told his companions to remain stacked up on either side of the entrance while he scouted ahead. He turned on his flashlight, which was mounted on top of the Uzi he was carrying, and went onward, being careful to stay along the walls to avoid being caught from behind. _Francis wasn't horse-shittin',_ the old man thought as he cautiously looked around, _we're completely surrounded on all sides! Well, only one way to do this, I guess._ Bill silently regrouped with the others and gave his report.

"We won't be able to sneak through this time," he said, though grim, he seemed somewhat excited, "so we'll have to take them head-on until we get outside. Then we'll use the pipe bombs to clear a path into the store. Everyone got that?"

"Great plan," Louis said, "what're we waiting for? Let's go!"

This time, Francis pushed forward, taking the lead. He deliberately called attention to himself from the many Infected aimlessly wandering the halls of the complex. Francis seemed to be treating the whole Zombie Apocalypse like it was just some enormous bar-fight, and he thoroughly enjoyed getting off perfect headshots with his sawed-off shotgun. Individual zombies were practically flocking into Francis' line of fire one-by-one and were just as quickly dropping like flies.

"Woohoo!" he cheered himself on as he claimed several more heads, "I—am—indestructible! Come on, vampire wussies! Like lambs to the slaughter! Haha! Ah, shit! Boomer! Gang way!"

Francis turned back and ran towards the team after hearing the tell-tale gurgling of the Special Infected known as a Boomer. He dive-bombed into Zoey and Louis to get them out of range of the monster's vomit. Bill took cover on his own, but instead of staying down, he raised his Uzi up over his head and blind-fired from behind his cover, striking the Special and causing it to explode everywhere. Luckily, though, the survivors were able to avoid—for the second time that night—getting slimed. Francis helped Louis and Zoey back to their feet as they thanked him for getting them out of danger.

"I suppose this means our luck is turning around, huh, Francis?" Zoey smiled confidently.

"Let's not celebrate yet," Bill cut in, "we still gotta get across the street."

"Right," the others said in unison.

Louis nudged Francis' arm; "Thanks again, man," he said, "I take back all that trash talk I said about your vest."

"Ah, it's cool, kid…I guess I'll take back the bullshit about your tie…_ahem_… yeah. I hate Boomers."

They had cleared the building of the Infected in no time flat despite the Boomer attack, but they still had quite the battle waiting for them outside. The four ducked down in a huddle to discuss their next move.

"This is the part where the pipe bombs come in," Bill said, "Louis and I will go first. I'll throw my bomb left, you throw yours right. We'll part them down the middle like Moses with the Red Sea. Francis, you and Zoey take up the rear, but don't throw your bombs unless more surround us. Questions?"

"Yeah," Francis raised his hand and spoke sarcastically, "why aren't we moving? We aren't getting' any younger, old man."

Bill sneered but kept his cool as he signaled to Louis to move to position.

On Bill's signal, both he and Louis walked out into the midst of the Infected and lit the fuses of their pipe bombs which activated the smoke detectors mounted on them. The high-pitched beeping of the detectors effectively attracted the thousand some-odd zombies towards them, but Bill held a hand up, telling Louis not to throw the bombs until the very last minute or until Infected numbers completely packed the two blocks surrounding the hardware store—whichever came first. The only offense they offered until then was the occasional head-shot to those that got a little too close for comfort. Finally, the two survivors were so crowded by the Infected that it became hard to breathe without tasting the putrid air tainted with the scents of week-old human flesh and blood collected between zombie teeth and fingernails. Also, the pipe bomb fuses were close to setting the explosions off. Bill at last lowered his gun and raised his bomb.

"Now, Louis!" he ordered.

"Fire in the hole!" Louis cried out.

The two men threw the bombs in opposite directions of each other as planned, causing the horde to split in two and follow the pipe bombs, easily lured by the still-beeping and flashing smoke detectors. At first, Bill was very pleased at how smoothly the plan had gone, but his satisfaction disappeared quickly when he saw where the bombs landed…

"Take cover!" he shouted shoving Louis towards the store, "They're too close! Move it, or we'll get blasted with them! Move!"

Bill busted one of the store's windows in and dragged Louis behind him, taking cover behind the check-out counter just as both bombs went off simultaneously in a single deafening explosion! The blast was close enough to shatter all the windows, glass display cases, and overhead light fixtures in the building, showering Bill and Louis with bits of glass, plastic, and embers from the blown lights. Just as quickly, all fell to silence. For a moment, the men kept low, but then Bill signed to Louis to stay put while he checked things out. He slowly rose up into a squatting position and peered over the counter, slowly scanning left to right the aftermath of the explosion. On either side were piles of charred and mutilated body parts and no sign pf any surviving zombies.

"Coast is clear, kid," Bill whispered, beckoning Louis up to his level of sight.

Louis looked over and assessed the carnage; "Not quite according to plan," he said, "but it worked…hey, where're Francis and Zoey? Weren't they supposed to follow after the bombs were thrown? Oh, shit! They might have been caught in the blast! We should go back and—"

"Your concern is very touching, Louis," Zoey's voice came from behind the men startling them both, "but as you can see, we can handle ourselves."

"Wha—?" Louis stammered, "H-how did you guys get in here without us seeing you?"

"Joint's got a back loading entrance," Francis answered smugly.

Zoey jumped in quickly; "Separating probably wasn't one of our best-laid plans," she said, "there was a pack of Hunters hiding nearby and almost took us by surprise the minute you guys took off. Luckily we were able to scare them off after killing the pack leaders, but we couldn't wait on your side of the plan to move. We ran straight through the horde hoping to catch up with you before you threw the pipe bombs."

"Well _that_ certainly wasn't very smart," Louis teased.

"Neither was shorting the distance you threw the bombs," Francis retorted, "When we saw that we—"

"There's no time for story-telling, Francis," Bill interrupted, "Let's look for some batteries for this transceiver…hmm, looks like it takes a nine volt."

"Here's some," Zoey said, tossing a two-pack of nine volt batteries to Bill.

The old man tore the package open and inserted one of the batteries into the transceiver then began searching for a live frequency; "Hello?" he spoke through the built-in microphone, "Is anyone there? This is _Green Beret_ calling from _Joe's Hardware_, can anyone hear me?"

He repeated this on every station without any luck, only static. _Some_ frequencies did not even have _that_. Bill was just about to give up just as the transceiver chirped to life.

_"Read you loud and clear, _Green Beret_,"_ a woman's voice came over the speaker, _"Well, maybe not quite as clear as it is loud, but I hear you."_

"Thank God!" Bill sighed, "What's your handle, miss?"

_"You may call me, _Doc_,"_ she answered, _"Are you a lone survivor, or are you in a group?"_

"Group," Bill advised, "There are three others with me: _College_, _Red_ _Tie_, and _Tattooed_ _Biker_. Are you with the EVAC team at Mercy Hospital, _Doc_?"

_"Not directly, _Green Beret_. I'm stationed in a safe house in the basement of Mercy Hospital. I house traveling survivors and help with any medical needs while in transit."_

"Why haven't you evacuated?" Zoey asked.

_"Now's not the time to discuss that, survivors," Doc_ said quickly, _"The high frequency of the transceiver could attract Infected to your location. Head towards the hospital as quickly as you can, but be careful! The closer you get to me, the higher the risk of running into Infected. Because of that, you may run into some of my traps—they are marked by reflector glass, so as long as you have flashlights, you should be able to spot them without too much trouble."_

"Is that all?" Francis chimed sarcastically, "I thought there would be more of a challenge!"

_"I see," Doc_ responded in amusement, _"if it's a challenge you want, on your way here, I could really use some extra supplies."_

"I was just joking…"

_"Well, I'm not. I can't maintain this checkpoint without supplies and defenses. Bring me some first aid kits from the clinic and fire department just up the road from you. I also need some food. I haven't been able to get out of here to get it myself."_

"Need any ammunition, _Doc_?" Bill asked politely.

_"No. The last EVAC party supplied me with ammo, but I usually give that to those looking to be evacuated."_

"We'll contact you when we have the supplies."

_"Good luck, survivors. Doc out."_

Bill shut the transceiver off and shoved it into his back pocket. Then he lit another cigarette as he readied his Uzi once more. Zoey, Louis, and Francis also got their weapons prepared. They did not know exactly how infested the hospital area was, but they were not going to take any chances at being caught off-guard again. Keeping low, the four survivors filed out of the hardware store, following closely behind Bill who assumed the lead as usual. He did his best to keep the group along the walls of the buildings that lined the street, taking special caution when crossing alleyway gaps between them. They were able to get some food from an abandoned Dollar General store without any problems, but the firehouse and clinic were crawling with infected firemen, nurses, and a few civilians. Even so, the survivors were able to clear out both buildings and get all the needed supplies for _Doc_.

Carefully leading them to the center of the road, Bill told the others to huddle together back-to-back so that they could see everything around them and avoid being caught off-guard. A coughing, wheezing sound from the alley way was the sure-fire sign that a Smoker was near them, and turning their backs would grant the mutated Infected the perfect opportunity to entangle one of the survivors without much effort. Therefore, the four survivors maintained a circle formation slowly orbiting around the open space between them.

"Hold, everyone," Bill said barely above a whisper, "I believe this is where _Doc's_ traps start."

He angled his flashlight across the open field that stretched between them and the hospital and illuminated several hundred reflectors that marked the traps set by _Doc_. The CB Transceiver beeped again, alerting Bill to an incoming transmission.

"_Green Beret_ here," he greeted.

_"Hello, _Green Beret_,"_ the familiar voice of _Doc_ came through, _"_Doc_ here. I think I can see you guys on the perimeter of the hospital."_

"Yes, ma'am, we're here, and we got your supplies. Can you navigate us through your labyrinth here?"

_"It's not that hard, _GreenBeret_. Follow the only path not lit up by reflectors! Just be careful! The Infected are getting smarter and have already figured out how to—"_

Before _Doc_ could finish, a nearby abandoned car's alarm started beeping wildly. With a cringe, Bill turned to Louis who had taken the first step forward only to find that the younger man had stepped directly on a well-placed panic button in the grass.

_"…how to set traps of their own," Doc_ concluded her sentence with a purposeless sigh, _"Sorry, survivors. I have to barricade the safe house until the Infected are dealt with. If I open the door for even a second, they could get in. You're on your own for now; _Doc_ out."_

Just like that, the transceiver went silent as the car alarm continued to blare until Francis shoved Louis aside and grabbed the key with the alarm and shut it off. That silence was quickly filled with the unmistakable snarling, teeth-gnashing, and shuffle-sprinting of another horde of infected humans heading their way. There was no time to point blame as the four survivors quickly became overwhelmed with zombies from every which way. They were effectively separated from each other as they began to panic amidst the horde. Francis ran out of ammunition rapidly and resorted to bashing heads in with the butt if his gun; Zoey alternated between her pistols and a little bit of melee to avoid depleting her ammo to quickly; Louis tried to pass through without firing more shots than he needed to—which actually proved useless; as for Bill, it was like Vietnam all over again, and there was no stopping him in his goal to eliminate the enemy even as the decrepit faces surrounded him and reached out with their disease-ridden hands.

Zoey was suddenly pulled down to the ground after having been lassoed by a long, slimy appendage; "Help!" she cried as she struggled against the binds, "Smoker's got me! Bill! Help me, please!"

"Hold on, Zoey!" Bill called back as he put more effort into pushing through the zombie horde, "I'm coming!" As he shoved through, Bill caught a glimpse of the reflectors used to mark _Doc's_ traps. That was when he realized they had been going about this battle the hard way; "Francis!" he called out to Francis who was closest to him, "The traps! Lead them into the traps! Quick! Pass it on to Louis! I'm going after Zoey!"

Francis shouted his acknowledgement and repeated the information to Louis. The two men then turned their backs to the zombies and began running directly towards the marked traps, jumping out of the way just as Infected fell for the ruse only to meet their doom. One stepped onto a hoe that had been strategically placed so that whoever stepped on it would get smacked in the forehead by the handle. The handle of this hoe had a long nail sticking out of it at just the right height for catching a zombie directly between the eyes, ensuring a quick, effective kill. Actually, this trap seemed so efficient that it was repeated several times in the obstacle course. An entire group of zombies was lured into a six-foot-deep pit—not very helpful when your enemy is not phased by long drops and can climb out without much effort, but the rising scent of kerosene oil was a sign to Louis that a Molotov cocktail would take care of that, no problem.

While Louis and Francis made use of the _Doc's_ traps, Bill hurried towards Zoey who had been dragged off by a Smoker. He had a good deal of trouble trying to find her with his eyesight not being what it once was. That plus he still had a decent number of Infected on his tail.

"Bill! Louis! Somebody!" Zoey's voice echoed across the field, "Help me, please!"

By the sound and the echo, Bill realized that Zoey was too far for him to reach her before the Smoker could do her in. He growled in aggravation at the thought of losing Zoey whom he had become rather fond of in a fatherly way. To make matters worse, Bill heard a Hunter nearby as well.

"Where is that sweatshirt wearin' little wuss?!" Bill heard Francis shout, indicating that he had heard the Hunter, as well.

"Forget about the damned Hunter!" Zoey screamed in anger and fear, "I am losing this game of tug-o-war with the Smoker!"

"If anyone has a clear shot," Bill admonished as he turned to deal with the zombies behind him, "take it! Get the Smoker off Zoey!"

Francis looked in the direction he had last seen Bill heading and caught a glimpse of two shadows struggling just beyond a high hedge bush. He was the closest one and knew he was the only one who could take the shot and make it count. He took aim carefully while Louis uncharacteristically watched the biker's back. _A little more,_ Francis said to himself trying to ignore the distracting gurgling being made by the Infected behind him, _steady, Francis, steady._ _There!_ The Smoker's head was right in Francis' crosshairs, and without a moment's hesitation, he fired the fatal blow to the infected monster that would have ended Zoey's existence.

The smoke cloud left behind by the Smoker surrounded Zoey almost immediately as she fell to the ground in reaction to the Infected's death. The young girl coughed and wheezed in the haze as she tried to locate the rest of the group.

"Are you all right, Zoey?" she heard Bill call from a distance.

"Yeah, thanks," she hacked, "Where are you guys? I can't see through the smoke."

"Turn your flashlight on and search for the areas not illuminated by reflectors. You'll find a safe path back to us. And don't worry; the horde has been dealt with. We should be able to proceed to the hospital now without further incident."

Zoey reached for the switch on her light only to be disappointed when it did not flick on. In what little light the quarter moon was giving off, she was able to see the lens and light bulb were missing from the flashlight and part of the frame was slightly caved in.

"Damn it!" she shouted, "My light busted in the fight!"

"Sit tight, Zoey," Bill told her, "I'll be right over there!"

At first, Zoey was inclined to obey, but then she remembered Bill and Francis both claiming to have heard a Hunter not to long ago. The entire area was silent other than the soft patter of feet heading her way. She knew that was Bill. However, the tell-tale growling of a Hunter could no longer be heard by anyone. Zoey took two cautious steps back against a tree to keep from getting pounced from behind. Then there it was again: the soft growl of a Hunter indicated it was definitely nearby. It did not sound like it was preparing to attack, but that did not ease Zoey's anxiety.

"Guys," she called out loud enough for at least Bill to hear, but she hoped soft enough as to not alert the monster near her, "now would be a good time to start thinking about that Hunter you heard earlier." Then there was a loud snarl, and Zoey jumped in surprise, but nothing came after her; "I don't think I can wait for you, Bill," she said, "I don't know where it is or why it's not attacking, but I don't want to stick around to find out!"

"No, Zoey!" Bill demanded, "Stay right where you are!"

This time Zoey did not respond. Instead, she moved away from the safety of her tree and made a dash for the hospital. It did not take long for her to wish she had listened to Bill as halfway through her run she got tangled up in one of Doc's barbed wire traps. She let out a startled scream as she tripped, twisted, and landed on her rear in mud.

"Zoey!" Bill shouted in alarm and concern, his voice sounding even further away than before.

"I—I'm okay," Zoey stammered, "but I'm caught in wire…and I think I twisted my ankle."

As Bill reprimanded her for disobeying, Zoey went stiff. Bill's voice had practically become muted in her ears as she now looked face-to-face with a crouched Hunter. She never saw it crawling towards her from the bushes, and because Hunters were known best for their stealth abilities above anything else, she also never heard its approach until it was practically breathing in her face.

It did not attack her, which Zoey immediately found odd considering no Infected she had ever come across had hesitated in a potential kill before. Still, she was not willing to take any chances. _Doc_ had said the Infected were becoming smart enough to set traps, and this was more than likely a very clever trap. She reached for her pistol slowly, and the Hunter reacted to the movement though it still held its place. Its reaction to her made Zoey halt in her decision to shoot while she could as it continued to examine her. Specifically, this Hunter kept looking down at the barbed wire that entangled Zoey's feet, and while Zoey observed, the Hunter reached for her.

"No!" she shouted, finally aiming her pistol, "Stay back!"

The Hunter pulled back and shrieked angrily just as Zoey pulled the trigger! _Click-click-click._ Zoey's eyes went wide. _Fuck!_ She thought bitterly, _What a time to run out of ammo!_ Bill, Francis, and Louis called out to her in response to the Hunter's scream, but Zoey ignored them. She knew they would not be able to get to her before this monster ripped her to shreds.

"Well," she sighed to her executioner, "get it over with quickly then…"

The Hunter tilted its head much like a confused kitten. It was like it could understand her. Zoey was curious about this, too, but she was no fool. She knew this was the end. The Hunter snarled softly, but instead of attacking, it once again reached for the barbed wire around Zoey's ankles, confusing the girl completely. If this was a trap, then perhaps the infection was not as debilitating as reports suggested. The Hunter snapped the bonds off Zoey then took a step backwards and seemed to wait for her reaction. Before she could react, Francis finally arrived and got the Hunter in his crosshairs.

"Got ya, ya rabid little punk!" he shouted.

"No, wait!" Zoey tried to stop him, "You don't have to—!"

The Hunter let out a shriek of anger then pounced on Francis knocking the breath out of the biker. At first, Zoey thought the Hunter was going to attack after all, but this act by this Special Infected turned out to only be its attempt to escape without any bloodshed. It howled once more when Louis and Bill showed up, but the Hunter did not stick around long enough for anyone else to take a shot at it. It leapt into the trees above and completely disappeared from sight. Bill ignored the fleeing Hunter and focused his attention on Zoey while Louis helped an angry Francis to his feet.

"You okay, Zoey?" Bill asked as he wrapped the girl's ankle in some gauze, "That was a close one. Maybe next time you'll listen when I tell you to stay put?"

"I'll definitely take that into consideration," Zoey answered still a bit shaken, "but did you see that Hunter?"

"Damned straight I did!" Francis howled, "Little punk! Can't take death with some dignity!"

"They're zombies, Francis," Louis interjected, "I highly doubt that 'dignity' is something they hold in high regard"

"Guys!" Zoey demanded their attention, "That's not what I was trying to say! I meant did you see what he did? Or more importantly what he _didn't_ do?" The three men looked at Zoey with confusion which signaled to her that they were really listening; "He never once attacked any of us. He got a little pissed at being aimed at, but he never got aggressive except to defend himself and get to safety."

"You mean he ran like a pansy!" Francis retorted still rather aggravated.

"Call it what you want, Francis, just remember he could have killed you before Bill or Louis could get him off. All he did was knocked you down so that he could get away. Plus, he did free me from the barbed wire."

"Yeah? Maybe next time he'll ask you to the prom," Francis went sarcastic, "Gimme a break, Zoey. He probably accidentally cut the wire while trying to rip your feet off."

"No, I'm pretty sure it was deliberate."

"That's enough, both of you," Bill said, "Let's just get to the safe house while we can."

"My sentiments exactly," a female voice said from behind the group, "that is if you four are through playing with the zombies."

Bill was the first to greet the new face; "_Doc_, I presume?" he asked.

"You presume correctly, _Green_ _Beret_," _Doc_ answered, "but let's save the pleasantries for when we're safely indoors."

Everyone agreed quickly and followed Doc into the safe house. Then she sealed it up behind them.


	3. Chapter 2: Doc's Story

Chapter Two:  
Doc's Story

Mercy Hospital Basement Safe House  
Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania  
October 19, 2009

This safe house was much larger and homier than just about every other house Bill and the others had ever been in. Of course, it was the basement of the hospital, so it was expected to be roomy. However, it was obvious by the décor that _Doc_ had been here probably since the beginning of the outbreak and had no plans of leaving any time soon. Aside for the obvious medical equipment within the room, _Doc_ had the CB radio against the west wall surrounded by what looked like old family photographs, a stack of notebooks, a domino set, a couple strategic board games, and an assortment of hackey-sacks. Bill looked on these in curiosity. He knew all too well how easily one could get bored when he or she lives alone, but trying to play two-player games alone has been known to drive a person to insanity. All in all, _Doc_ looked to be mentally healthy despite her choice of knickknacks.

At first glance, _Doc_ did not really look like much of a doctor aside from the long, white lab coat that would give her away in a crowd. Her face was youthful and had the appearance of inexperience in the medical field despite all the professional "doctor jargon" scribbled on various scraps of paper strewn throughout the place. When she removed her coat, it was confirmed by her wardrobe that she could not have been much older than twenty-four- or twenty-five-years-old. _Doc_ wore slimming boot-cut blue jeans, a fitted grey, quarter sleeve blouse that bore the name of the Marines, and black, One-Star converse flats which had been the dead giveaway to her age. She also sported several complementary tattoos spanning the length of both her arms.

"I apologize for the mess," _Doc_ said as she moved towards the mahogany desk at the center of the room, "but surely you know that doctors are notorious for their 'organized chaos.'"

"Compared to the other safe houses," Louis responded brightly, "this place couldn't be cleaner!"

"I appreciate the complement. Incidentally, my name is Roxy; Doctor Roxanne Dominic. What're your names? Or do you prefer _Green_ _Beret_, _College_, _Red_ _Tie_, and _Biker_?" As she listed the names, she matched each one to a face perfectly.

"My name's Bill," the old man said then pointed in the same order Roxy went, "That's Zoey, Louis, and Francis."

Roxy smiled; "I'm very glad to meet all of you," she said, "It's been two weeks since I've seen any survivors, and the EVAC have been putting pressure on me to forget about this post and save myself."

"Well," Louis pondered, "why haven't you? Not that I'm ungrateful to see another human face…I'm just curious."

For a moment, Roxy hesitated with her response, but she quickly mustered up the courage to answer; "I along with four others have been searching for a cure to the infection," she said professionally though it garnered obnoxious laughter from Francis.

"You're joking, right?" he chortled, "You're actually trying to _cure_ the vampires?"

"First of all, _Francine_," Roxy shot back with a dry chuckle, "there're no such things as vampires."

"It's _Francis_!"

"Whatever. Secondly, I'm not only _trying_, I'm succeeding."

Just then, a supply pack fell from the ceiling causing all five in the room to look up. Crawling out of a vent shaft was a Hunter clad in a brown hoodie with a tribal dragon design on the front. Both the hoodie and his black Ghast™ rave pants were securely duct taped down around his wrists and ankles and knee and elbow joints. The hood, as well as his stringy, jaw-length auburn hair, effectively concealed his eyes. He did not seem to notice the four new survivors in the room until Francis panicked and raised his gun.

"Hunter in the safe house!" he shouted as he took aim.

The Hunter faced Francis for only a split second and—in true Hunter fashion—shrieked in realization of danger. He dropped down from the shaft to the floor just as the large man fired, and before he could even take aim again, the Hunter jumped behind Roxy for safety. The young woman in turn spread her arms out in defense of the startled creature.

"Coward!" Francis yelled, "Hiding behind a human shield!"

"That's quite enough!" Roxy shouted back, "There is delicate equipment in here; I'm going to have to insist that all of you check your weapons at the door."

"But there's a—!"

Francis' protest was cut off abruptly as a slimy, elastic tentacle wrapped around his weapon and yanked it out of his hands. The four guests turned to see two Smokers standing on either side of the safe house entrance, one having successfully unloaded and dismantled Francis' gun. The second Smoker snagged Louis' weapon when he panicked and aimed. That gun was then taken apart as well. Bill and Zoey willingly laid theirs down.

"Lady, you're insane," Francis snapped angrily, "keeping these monsters as pets!"

"No, I'm a _doctor_," Roxy corrected, "and these _monsters_ are my _patients_."

The Hunter carefully poked his head out from behind the doctor; "Saved his friend," a raspy voice emanated from the Hunter's snarling mouth, "and this is the kind of thanks…"

An awkward silence followed those words as Bill and his team stared in blatant confusion.

"Did—" Zoey hesitated, "did that Hunter just…speak?"

"Yes," Roxy answered, lowering her arms, "Cade has been my most successful patient. He was the first of many to react positively to the serum my colleagues and I developed over the course of our stay here."

"How many successes exactly?" Bill asked as he eyed the Smoker sentries nervously.

"Well, perhaps it's best to start from the beginning…"

* * *

Oklahoma City Hospital  
Oklahoma City, Oklahoma  
Circa September, 2009

Six months before the first breakouts of the infection, Roxanne "Roxy" Dominic had been taken on as an intern to Doctor Mira Halbert at Oklahoma City Hospital while she continued to work for her various desired degrees at Oklahoma State University. Roxy's interest in medicine did not blossom until her senior year of high school when her maternal grandmother passed away due to cancer. Up until that time, Roxy had been a rebellious youth with poor grades and heavily into anarchy, but that is a story for another time.

During the course of her growing career at Oklahoma City Hospital, Roxy learned many secrets in the endless pursuit for cures and treatments to new ailments and diseases that seemed to be surfacing on a daily basis as well as old sicknesses that still baffled the modern scientist. Skills in chemistry as well as knowledge of medical herbs and such were important to posses in order to find these miracle cures, and Roxy proved many times in life-threatening situations to have these qualities. Of course, she had just as many failures as she had successes, but it was all enough for her peers and superiors to take interested notice. Dr. Halbert then suggested having Roxy transferred to the Medical Research Team where her talents would be put to better use.

Once transferred, Roxy was assigned a sub-team along with four other medical scientists, she being the odd-one-out not having earned her doctorate yet. There specific task was to look into vaccinations for rare viral infections including—but not limited to—the West Nile Virus, Mad Cow Disease, and rabies. While the treatments for these diseases already existed, the researchers' job was to improve or even perfect the treatments in hopes of finding permanent solutions rather than having people rely on tedious treatments that do little more than bring temporary comfort to the afflicted. Rabies was their primary case because it was more common than the others. It was also their most difficult because most who have rabies never know until it is too late to do anything about. Needless to say, once the infection was labeled as a new strain of rabies, Roxy and her team were placed in the lead for finding a cure.

The most obvious plan was to alter the current rabies vaccination in order to treat infected people before they enter the psychosis stage. That, however, required getting blood samples from already infected individuals, a task that has been fruitless as patients who exhibited symptoms of the virus were immediately quarantined for the safety of the hospital staff. Mostly this was due to fear of spreading the infection within because the infected tended to succumb to full psychosis within minutes of being admitted to the hospital and attack just about everyone around them. After quarantine, they would be too dangerous to allow anyone inside to get the needed blood samples.

One afternoon, Roxy and her four teammates—Dr. Mahmoud Shahabaz, Dr. Allison Drew, Dr. Stephen Knox, and Dr. Angelica Pedro—were walking back towards the research lab after lunch. They recently came up with a theory for a possible cure to the infection, but unfortunately, without the blood samples, no theories could be proven. For half the team, this was enough to make anyone angry.

"This is so frustrating!" Roxy complained, "How can they expect us to do our job if they won't allow us to get what we need? Those blood samples are imperative to this research!"

"I'm beginning to think they don't _want_ us to cure these people," Angelica growled then trailed off into a string of Spanish curses.

Mahmoud, an Iranian—and also the team's leader—maintained the peace among the group; "Patience, my friends," he said in next to perfect English, though heavily accented with his Persian heritage, "it is difficult to catch this disease early enough to obtain a blood sample without the risk of spreading the infection because it is spread by the exchange of bodily fluids. What is a syringe full of infected blood shattered in a struggle with a psychotic patient? We'd lose a doctor—an extra mind we need to combat this pathogen."

Allison and Stephen seemed to agree with Mahmoud, but Roxy and Angelica remained skeptically agitated by the whole situation.

"There haven't been any news reports on it," Roxy pointed out, "so of _course_ it'll be difficult to catch early. It's one thing for the hospital staff to know how it spreads, but if _civilians_ don't know, then they won't think to even be admitted after coming in contact with someone who's infected."

"Are you suggesting there's been a press ban?" Stephen asked.

Roxy only shrugged her shoulders and gave the man a "what do you think?" look while Mahmoud fell silent. The look on his aged, Persian face suggested he had no knowledge of a press ban. He pulled out his iPhone® and began sifting through online news articles for any mention of the recent plague-like breakouts. Finding none, he pocketed his phone then rubbed his chin in deep thought.

"I'm sure there's a perfectly good explanation," Stephen offered less than confidently.

"Like what?" Angelica challenged impatiently.

Mahmoud held up his hand before an answer could be given; "We do not have the time for bickering amongst ourselves," he said, "Remember: wise men do not _assume_ to know all the answers; they _seek_ to know. Let's head down to the lab. Maybe we'll find some answers there."

The five all came to an agreement and headed for the research laboratory. The route they took led them right past the psyche ward where infected patients were quarantined for the safety of the rest of the hospital. The research team continued on ahead until Allison noticed something rather odd about the psyche ward..

"Dr. Shahabaz?" she spoke with confusion and pointed at the floor, "What's this stuff around the doors?"

Mahmoud walked back towards Allison and looked down in the direction she was pointing. His eyes followed a trail of hardened foam that filled in the crevasse all around the double doors of the psyche ward.

"It is foam sealant," the Persian answered just as perplexed as the young woman beside him, "It is used for repairing cracks in water pipes and in walls. I don't understand why…"

As he trailed off, Stephen spoke up; "The doors are also chained and padlocked," he observed, "I know we have to keep these people detained, but this seems a little bit like overkill."

Roxy raised an eyebrow in speculation; "You don't think they're trying to…?" she asked and let the incomplete thought enter the minds of her colleagues.

"Nonsense," Allison waved her hand in dismissal, "This hospital is dedicated to saving lives not ending them, Ms. Dominic. It's probably just extra precautions to make sure they can't get out and hurt anyone…you've seen how strong they've become in their psychotic state."

"Give me a break, Allison," Angelica jumped in, agreeing with Roxy, "If they were strong enough to break the chain off the door, then shouldn't they also be strong enough to break through the double paned glass here?" She lightly tapped on the transparent window which alerted some of the infected to the presence of people nearby. Fifteen of them ran up and began violently banging of the window in an attempt to get out but to no avail. "They can't even crack it," Angelica continued, "They only seem stronger because they've gone mad, nothing more. Their lack of intelligence prevents them from understanding that a heavy blunt object could free them, so the bottom line is: they're not going anywhere! There's something else going on, and no one's bothering to tell us."

The squabbling started up once more, but this time, Mahmoud could not intervene as the dean of the hospital approached them; "Dr. Seamus!" he shouted, mispronouncing the Persian's name.

"_Shahabaz_," Mahmoud corrected him, "It is _Shahabaz_, Dr. Moore."

"Right, right," Moore waved his hand impatiently, "Why are you and your team conversing out here instead of doing your jobs?"

"We just got back from lunch; we were on our way down to the lab now. Speaking of our jobs, since you're here, we were wondering about the status of the blood samples we requested three days ago. We think we may have had a breakthrough in the search for the cure."

Moore sighed hesitantly; "Actually, Dr. Shaman—"

"_Shahabaz_."

"—Shahabaz—I'm sure you understand the danger involved in getting _any_ type of samples from patients who've been exposed to and contracted the virus, but now it's downright impossible to obtain because all hospitals and clinics have been put under a federal gag order. The President doesn't want us causing mass hysteria amongst the civilians."

"_What_ the _hell_?" Roxy blurted, "Since _nobody_ outside these walls knows about he virus and how it's transmitted, _nobody_ is going to seek out treatment, and it's just going to spread quicker and quicker. Do you know what then? _Unrestrained_ infected people are going to go on murderous rampages, and we'll have mass hysteria anyway!"

"Um, well," Moore was losing his confidence, "CEDA is working to assist those who can't get to the hospitals and—"

"CEDA?" Stephen echoed in disbelief, "Who put _them_ in charge of this? They couldn't even handle our tornado season back in 2006! I wouldn't put it passed them to suggest euthanizing the infected all together!"

Moore's lips tightened into a thin line as he hesitated to respond to the insinuation. Roxy picked up on it quickly, and suddenly she turned back into the punk teenager she was in high school. On impulse, the younger, stronger woman grabbed the shorter, stockier man by the lapels of his shirt, slamming and pinning him against the window of the psyche ward. The thudding sound that it made gained the infected patients' attention once more, and they scrambled to the window, banging on it incessantly with a terrifying hunger in their bloodshot eyes.

"A-are you c-crazy?" Moore yelped in fear, "How dare you? Let me go, you lunatic!"

"Not until you tell us what's really going on," Roxy growled, shaking the man once so that his head slammed against the window, "We've been working our asses off to find a cure for these people to save their lives, but it's obvious that somebody doesn't want us to do that! Tell us, or else I'm gonna use _you_ to shatter this window and let the crazies rip you apart!"

"You…you wouldn't dare!"

Roxy narrowed her eyes angrily then forced Moore to turn around so that he was looking into the eyes of the infected on the other side. When he tried to turn away, Roxy turned him back; "Look at them!" she shouted as she banged on the window to attract as many as were trapped in the room, "You've broken the Hippocratic Oath and damned them without a second thought. Give me one good reason I shouldn't give them their retribution?"

"You'll kill us all!"

"At least the five of us will have something to show for it, unlike you! Now talk!"

As the zombies on the other side of the glass pounded angrily, Moore began to realize that this woman was serious. He began sweating bullets and his life flashed before his eyes. _Probably much like these poor souls in that room_, he thought with shame. The others in Roxy's team made no attempt to intervene even though they could all get fired for it. They wanted answers just as badly as anyone else, but they knew Roxy was the only one willing to risk everything for them. Finally, Moore could not take any more.

"All right! All right!" he yelled pleadingly as Roxy allowed him to take his eyes off the infected, "The President has put CEDA in charge of an evacuation procedure for all those who test negative for the virus."

"How are they being tested?" Angelica asked, "No one even knows what's going on."

"It's flu season," Moore answered smugly, "CEDA's administering flu shots at designated locations and testing for the virus discreetly using DNA left on the syringe needles. Infected are sent to solitary waiting rooms, having been told something—anything—to convince them they were needed for further 'tests.' When those 'waiting rooms' reach their capacity, they…they…"

"They _what_?" Roxy demanded, shoving Moore again.

"They…kill off the whole room…with noxious gas used in criminal executions…"

Roxy's expression went blank; "What about _our_ patients?" she asked remorsefully.

"For everyone's safety," the answer came from the end of the hallway from a tall man in a yellow hazmat suit with "CEDA" spread across the front in large, bold letters, "anyone who is infected must be put down to slow and eventually eliminate the transfer of the virus."

This time, Mahmoud took the helm; "How could you?" he asked, "You talk about these people like they're animals! We're trying to save lives here!"

"So are we," the CEDA worker said.

"No! You're trying to play God! I won't stand for this!"

"We already have a Hail Mary pass from the President himself, doctor, so I suggest you back off."

"I think we should listen to him, Dr. Sheba," Moore said.

"My name is _Shahabaz_, you pathetic excuse for a man! And no, I will _not_ listen to this! I—"

Mahmoud trailed off when he saw Roxy release Moore from her grasp. Her expression was still blank as she walked between her team; "Get ready to run for the lab," she whispered to them as she continued towards the fire extinguisher.

"Roxy?" Stephen said, "What are you doing?"

"Just get ready to run."

She calmly removed the extinguisher from its hook on the wall and walked back towards the psyche ward window. The CEDA worker was confused as he saw this, but he quickly saw what the woman was doing as she picked up her pace and raised the extinguisher over her shoulder like a baseball bat.

"Stop!" he shouted frantically, "You're going to k—!"

It was too late. Roxy swung her impromptu weapon hard into the thick glass shattering it almost instantly. The screams of the infected became louder, and as quickly as she had done the deed, Roxy turned tail towards the hospital laboratory shouting for the other four to follow. She looked back briefly to see Moore and the CEDA worker get overwhelmed by the horde their own bigotry had created. That same horde then turned on Roxy and her team. They all knew that would happen, but it did not matter now.

"In the lab!" Mahmoud ordered once he reached the door.

He counted heads as the team entered after him, and once all were accounted for, he slammed the door shut and activated the locks. The others assisted in barricading the door with cabinets and gurneys for extra protection. The horde pounded on the doors for only a few minutes before dying down. The four doctors and one intern faced each other, heaving from loss of breath.

"What do we do now?" Allison asked.

"We continue our work," Roxy suggested, "We don't need permission to find a cure, and we know we can't rely on the government for support."

"Oh? And just who put you in charge? If it wasn't for you, we wouldn't even be in this mess!"

"Back off!" Angelica came to Roxy's defense, "I didn't see _you_ doing anything about this atrocity! At least Roxy showed some backbone!"

"This is ludicrous!" Stephen argued, "We're trapped in here! We might as well offer ourselves up on silver plates to the zombies!"

"Aren't you guys overreacting a little?" Roxy interjected.

"_Overreacting_?" Allison shrieked, "What do you call your rash actions with the infected in the psyche ward? _That_ was an overreaction!"

"CEDA was going to kill them! It's one thing to defend yourself, but they weren't being attacked! They had them trapped like rats, and they were going to kill them! You can't tell me you wouldn't have done the same thing in my shoes!"

"That's enough!" Mahmoud shouted. The unfamiliar anger in his voice was enough to silence the fighting, "_I_ am in charge of this team…and I agree with Roxy." He picked up a rack of capped-off test tubes from all their research; "We finish what we started," he continued, "any objections?" When no one spoke up, Mahmoud went on: "Now, there is still a chance we may be able reverse the effects of the virus even in its advanced stage. These vials contain samples of the common rabies vaccination…if we can get a blood or tissue sample off one of the infected, we will be able to test it for the component that caused the virus to mutate into the new strain. With that, we might be able to alter the vaccination to match the infection and battle it. Worst case scenario, we create noting more than an immunization for ourselves, but we cannot stop there. I want the best case scenario: a cure."

Mahmoud's four younger colleagues exchanged glances. He saw hope mixed with doubt as they contemplated the risks involved with this plan—if one could call it a plan—and while they deliberated amongst themselves, he began digging into the laboratory's stock of syringes and anesthetics. He figured the only way to get a DNA sample from the zombies would be to sedate them. He just hoped what he gathered would be enough to do the trick. When he had gathered most of what he wanted, Mahmoud found that his team had come to a unanimous decision.

"Well?" he asked.

Roxy was pushed forward to speak for the group, which was a shock, to be sure; "We've agreed to follow through with the project," she said with a smile, "and we're ready to take any risks necessary to cure this disease."

"There's just one thing," Allison inputted, "how?"

"I thought you would never ask," Mahmoud said with his own smile.

The Iranian man pulled three dry erase boards to the center of the laboratory and erased everything on them. Then he proceeded to draw a massive diagram that spanned all three boards, and as the others watched, they saw he was drawing a semi detailed map of the few blocks near the hospital. Aside from the hospital itself, Mahmoud put names to only two other locations: the police station and the zoo. He explained that the police station—provided it had been evacuated already—should still have a stockpile of confiscated weapons in storage and that they should start by arming themselves for their own protection.

"We will not be any good to the people if we are dead," he pointed out, "I hate having to say this, but we may not have a choice but to kill a few infected—but only if they attack us. I am sure that that is inevitable, but I fell I must stress that we do not strike first."

Then he removed his lab coat and instructed the others to do the same. He explained that these people in their psychotic state seem to be extremely faster and more agile than the common, non-infected man, and the coats were long enough to get caught in a door or snagged by one of the infected. He also advised removing loose or sparkly jewelry and silencing cellular phones and beepers because bright objects and high-pitched sounds could attract hordes of the infected.

"How do _you_ know so much about zombies?" Roxy asked with an amused grin.

"My son, Saeed," Mahmoud answered sheepishly, "He played the video games and watched the movies. We used to joke about this kind of thing happening for real…how ironic that it actually did."

He said nothing more about that. Everyone in the room knew that Mahmoud lost his son to the infection just the week before. He was not turned into a zombie, however. It had turned out children under the age of eighteen who were infected with the virus died within twenty-four hours because their bodies were not strong enough to endure the painful effects that went with it. Saeed was only thirteen. Mahmoud had lost his wife the year before in a massive car accident; it was a miracle the man had not lost his mind.

Stephen ended the awkward silence by turning the television on. At first, just loud static echoed through the lab, but after several tries, he found a working news station.

"Looks like the press is no longer silent," he said, "Check this out."

The group gathered around the set as a female news anchor occupied the screen; "_Mayhem has erupted at Henry Ford Hospital in Detroit, Michigan this morning,_" she said, "_Patients exhibiting symptoms of psychosis have completely overrun the Ford Hospital, blindly murdering anyone in their path. One was described as being a massive hulk of a man that seemed unable to control his rage. One of the head doctors managed to escape the carnage. Dr. Reynolds, can you explain what happened?_"

The camera panned over to a middle-aged man who had obviously been terrified out of his wits; "_I-it's hard to s-s-say,_" he stuttered as he made motions with his shaky hands, "_I w-w-was one of the d-doctors in charge of w-w-watching a J-John Doe who h-had come to us sh-showing symptoms of rabies. What h-h-happened next w-w-was beyond any-anything I had, uh, I had ever seen before. He, uh, he, uh…mutated…into, into…well, I-I-I don't know what to c-c-call it other than a m-monster. Then other patients who h-had the same s-s-symptoms started showing up. J-just like the John D-Doe, they were in early t-to adv-vanced psychosis. M-Most succumbed quickly and j-j-just died on the s-spot, but others…others became…_"

He refused to finish the thought. Anyone in their right mind knew the term "zombie" belonged in the movies and video games and had no place in the real world. Skipping the expression, Dr. Reynolds went on to say that the infected became cannibalistic almost instantly. He was about to go into detail about what to do if encountered by one of the infected when the anchorwoman interrupted urgently.

"_This just in!_" she shouted, "_CEDA, who has been recently reported as offering flu shots, is bringing it's true task to light! It seems they've been ordered to begin evacuation procedures to remove all non-infected persons out of the country while quarantining infected individuals! Their spokesman just contacted this news station and is urging everyone to take shelter now! One of their clinics has been breeched in downtown Detroit flooding the city with infected! Everyone must—hey! What's going on?_"

At that moment, the camera was suddenly knocked down, causing the anchorwoman and her guest to leap to their feet in surprise. Several blood curdling shrieks flooded through the speakers of the television indicating that the studio was being mercilessly ransacked by infected. The station went out almost immediately, and Stephen wasted no time in searching for another one. When he found one, a representative of CEDA appeared on the screen.

"_We are urging citizens to stay indoors_," she was saying, "_Report any unusual behavior, barricade your homes, avoid all contact with infected individuals, and wait for official instructions. CEDA has set up several evacuation centers in the most accessible cities in every state. Military personnel will be running the streets to pick up survivors and carry them to these sites. Do NOT attempt to reach the sites on your own._ _That's all we have for now._"

"_All right, thank you, Natalia_," the anchorman came onscreen, "_That was Natalia Mackey with the Civil Emergency and Defense Agency, or CEDA. Aside from CEDA's information, we have also been notified that several infected victims of what is now being called the 'Green Flu' have begun mutating further than the common patient creating their own 'special classes' of infected. At current, five different 'sub-classes' of mutation have been assigned. The least obvious of these being what professionals are calling 'Hunters.' From what we gather, they only attack individuals traveling alone and run for safety at the approach of large groups. The second class is the 'Smoker,' which seem to be able to lasso victims from a distance, easily separating them from their group. Third is the 'Boomer,' obese infected that vomit putrid bile that can attract large hordes of commons and—if it lands on open wounds—can spread the virus easily. 'Witches' have been reported as being passive and unwilling to attack unless provoked. Beware: they sound like crying children and can be deceitful in luring you to danger. If you see or hear one, move away as silently as possible and avoid shining any light in their direction. The deadliest mutation by far is the 'Tank,' as described by survivors of the sacking of Ford Hospital in Detroit. They are relentless in their destruction, powerful in their approach, and ruthless in attacking._

_ "Do not try to take on any of the infected on your own. Barricade your homes and arm yourself if you must, but don't try to be a hero. You need only keep cover until the military makes rounds in your area. We will try to stay on air as long as possible and give any breaking news as we receive it."_

The screen changed to a test pattern as a sign that the station was attempting to conserve power. Mahmoud was then put on the spot as he team turned towards him for instruction.

"Well," he said with a sigh, "looks like the situation was out of hand long before it came to us. Judging by the events in Michigan, if we wait for the military then we are as good as dead. It will probably be no different if we go outside alone, but it is better than waiting in here where we would be trapped should our barricade be breeched."

"What do you suggest?" Roxy asked supportively.

"We will take the back way out of the hospital—God willing, the halls will be open for us to pass through safely. Short term goals: we will go to the police station first and arm up as much as we can without weighing ourselves down. Then we will go to the zoo and obtain tranquilizing equipment of all sizes as well as creatures that are immune to the virus like reptiles, birds, and arachnids—whatever we can carry that will not be burdensome. Long term, we will make our way to Mercy Hospital in Pennsylvania via the military evacuation services. They will have more advance equipment that we can use in our search for a cure. Are we still in agreement?"

Everyone confirmed their commitment to this cause much to Mahmoud's joy. He passed out a vial of the rabies vaccination to each member of the group and a pouch full of syringes filled with anesthetics. Each person also grabbed up a steel rod to use as a temporary weapon against the infected then waited for further instruction.

"It's now or never," Angelica said encouragingly.

Mahmoud nodded in agreement as he opened the rear door of the laboratory. The five survivors stepped out without any delusions of safe passage, and so began the long journey to a cure.


	4. Chapter 3: The Zoo

Chapter Three:  
The Zoo

Mercy Hospital Basement Safe House  
Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania  
October 19, 2009

Before Roxy continued her tale, she took a quick moment to explain her status. All the while, she kept a protective hand on the Hunter nuzzled up beside her much to Francis' voiced disgust. Of course, it took little effort on Roxy's part to ignore the over-tattooed man.

"So, you're not exactly a full-fledged doctor?" Bill observed, showing his attention to detail, "Not that credentials really matter now that civilization has been hijacked by zombies, but…"

"No, they really don't," Roxy concurred pleasantly, "but you're right. Educationally, I needed four more years in college to obtain my PhD and take the title of 'Doctor,' but through experience, I can claim the title without a degree…well, at least that's how my colleagues felt about it…"

* * *

Oklahoma City Police Department  
Oklahoma City Oklahoma  
Circa September, 2009

As Mahmoud had predicted, the police station had been ravenously overrun; the Infection had spread like wildfire throughout the majority of Oklahoma in just a matter of hours. Inside the station, the small team of hospital personnel carefully maneuvered through wreckage and annihilated bodies as they headed down towards the armory, which due to the small structure of the building would probably not have much to choose from—especially if any other survivor groups had thought to come through. A soft moaning echoed through the halls.

"What was that?" Angelica whispered.

"If I were to chance a guess," Stephen responded, "I'd say a few Uniforms decided to stick around for dinner."

Mahmoud waved his hand in front of them to gain their attention and then meticulously placed his forefinger to his lips telling them to remain silent. He led the way until they reached a rather large doorway at the back of the station, its double doors barely hanging on by their hinges. The moaning was incessantly louder through here. _I'd say more than "just a few" infected cops are down there, _Roxy thought to herself, clutching the crowbar she had picked up just outside the hospital as the five survivors entered the broad hallway towards the armory. This hall also branched into various offices, and when Roxy chanced a peek into one, she made mote of how many infected occupied them. She quickly turned away before she could be noticed by the aimlessly wandering zombies. Then, after gaining Mahmoud's attention, began communicating in sign language.

[_There are about half a dozen in each one_] she said [_If they become aware of us while we're out in the open, we'll be no match for them._]

[_We must remain calm_] Mahmoud signed back [_As long as we avoid making any loud noises and stay out of sight, we will be fine. Come along…the armory is just a few more feet down that way._]

They all followed Mahmoud the rest of the way, taking great efforts to sneak by the groups of infected without alerting them. Fortune was on their side when they reached the armory and found it vacant of any living being, zombie or otherwise. Still, Mahmoud was not ready to risk speaking out loud, so he signed.

[_Before we go any further_] he said [_how many of us actually know how to handle a firearm of any kind?_]

Everyone except Allison raised their hands in response.

[_I used to go deer and squirrel hunting with my aunt_] Roxy confirmed [_I can easily handle a hunting rifle or double barrel._]

[_Armed self-defense classes_] Angelica said [_I'm fairly decent with a pistol or two._]

[_I'm an advanced skeet shooter_] Stephen inputted [_I can also handle a double-barrel._]

[_I've never handled a gun in my life_] Allison admitted [_except for a water pistol, but I highly doubt the zombies are appreciators of water sports._]

[_Certainly not_] Mahmoud could not retain his smile [_I'll teach you some basics when we are all safe._]

[_Wait_] Angelica said [_are you even qualified to teach firearms?_]

[_Not that legalities matter in these dark times, my dear, but yes: I am legally licensed to teach people how to use a gun, and I have personal experience with military-grade weapons from my mandatory two-year service in the Iranian army. However, story time will have to wait. Let us arm ourselves and get out of here._]

Mahmoud approached the gate that blocked off the armory only to find that it had an electronic locking mechanism to prevent unauthorized access. The Persian sighed in annoyance then turned to the others.

[_Looks like we don't have a choice_] Roxy signed.

Mahmoud shook his head; [_No, we do not_] he said [_Breaking the lock will set off the alarm and lead every Infected within hearing range to us, and…and it will also prevent us from relocking the gate once we get inside, so…_]

[_So_] Roxy picked up the thought [_at least two of us will have to hold the gate shut_.]

[_Impossible_] Stephen contradicted [_even if all five of us were holding the door, against a thousand plus horde of psychotic zombies would overrun us in an instant!_]

[_Not if we move quickly. Just follow my lead, and once we're in, Roxy, Stephen, and Angelica will hold the door while Allison and I find a way to barricade it. Are we agreed?_]

Everyone nodded, though in reality they were reluctant and more than just a little bit worried. Roxy handed her crowbar to Mahmoud who wedged it in between the lock and the door itself and began to pry it apart.

"Get ready," Mahmoud whispered, "almost there…and…"

The alarm was blaring before the broken lock even hit the floor. Just as instantly, the angry growling and screeching of a multitude of Infected flooded the entire station in a deafening roar. The five survivors hurried into the armory, and while Roxy, Stephen, and Angelica pressed themselves up against the steel door, Mahmoud and Allison quested for weapons and barricading equipment. It was not long before the three on the door became oppressed by the hundreds on the other side. They felt themselves being pushed, unwillingly giving ground to the horde, but somehow they managed to push back. _We can't keep this up, _Roxy thought, feeling herself slip, _there's just no way!_

"Dr. Shahabaz!" Angelica screamed, "Whenever you can spare the time, we could _really_ use some help!"

"Sawed-off!" Allison then yelled, "Catch!"

Roxy looked up to see the shotgun flying towards her. Instinctively, she straightened up and reached for it. Catching it, she was very relieved to see that Mahmoud remembered to load it first. In her excitement, she forgot about the door, and the loss of her weight against it was all the zombies needed to get in.

"Shit!" Stephen yelled as he grabbed Angelica by the upper arm and dragged her towards the gun racks.

Roxy stayed by the door and began picking off infected as quickly as her weapon would allow, sometimes killing two or three with one bullet when they were close enough. Finally, she heard gunfire emanating from the back of the armory where the rest of the team was. She recognized the sound of pistols and a double-barrel shotgun. There was also rapid fire. _Mahmoud must've found an AK-47,_ she thought, _that'll come in handy._ She began moving towards the others, taking down Infected as she went. All of a sudden, she could not move any more as something long and slimy wrapped around her throat and upper body, pulled her to the ground, and began dragging her further and further away from her friends.

"Somebody help me!" she called out trying desperately to keep whatever it was from strangling her, "Hurry, please!"

The closer she got to her captor, the more tied up and constricted she became, and when she was close enough to see it, she wished she had not looked. Its face was partially covered by a cluster of tumors making it short one eye, and a haze of green smoke hovered about its being. It tried to claw at Roxy causing her to let go of the strange appendage around her neck in an attempt to block the attacks. The mutated Infected took the opportunity to tighten its grip on her, blocking her airways and silencing her cries for help. The other, lesser Infected quickly turned their attention on her, fighting amongst each other over who would get the kill. Roxy was not really concerned with them, but with the one choking the life out of her, though the lack of oxygen coupled with the surrounding smoke was making it harder to think clearly. She began frantically searching her pockets for something which to cut herself free until she found the scalpel she had thought to bring from the hospital. She was not even able to touch blade to tentacle before the weapon was randomly swatted from her hand.

"Fuck!" she managed to choke out as she continued to struggle for breath.

Only a few feet away, the sound of gunfire was becoming faint, and Roxy began losing hope of surviving this encounter. Then without warning, the lesser Infected became disinterested in Roxy and ceased to beat on her as they all turned tail to chase something up the hall. Ten seconds later there was a rattling explosion that sent Roxy and her captor careening into the wall. The mutant seemed to have been knocked out the explosion prompting Roxy to make an attempt for her knife which had miraculously landed nearby. She was still constricted by the tentacle—which she realized was actually its tongue—but it had become loose enough for her to at least take a breath as she slowly crawled towards her blade. There was no telling if this thing would wake up any time soon, but Roxy was not willing to take the chance. She reached for the scalpel only to find that she was too far away, like a dog on a short leash. _Damnit!_ She thought, _Come on! It's right there!_ With all her might, she reached but with no luck…then there was a voice.

"Roxy?" it was Stephen, "Roxy? Are you all right?"

At that moment, the mutated Infected came to. His movements gave Roxy just enough slack to grab her blade before being pulled back for the Infected to finish what he had started. As Roxy moved to cut herself loose, she saw Stephen.

"Don't just stand there!" she shouted, "Shoot it! Damnit, do it now!"

But the man hesitated, frozen in fear by the sight of this zombie. In frustration, Roxy managed to slice the tongue off and pull the rest of it from around her neck and body. The zombie wailed angrily as Roxy made a mad dash for her shotgun she had dropped earlier and landed a perfect headshot to her former captor. The body fell to the ground in a lifeless heap, releasing a billowing cloud of noxious, blinding fumes. Hacking and temporarily vision impaired, Roxy shoved Stephen back into the armory where Mahmoud and the others managed to turn it into a makeshift safe house. Once safely inside, Roxy violently pushed Stephen into the wall prompting Angelica and Allison to hold her back. Stephen made no motion to defend himself.

"What the fuck, Steve?" Roxy shouted wrenching free of the other girls, "you picked a fine time to freeze up!"

"I-I-I-" the man stammered, "I didn't—I mean, I just—"

"We will _not_ survive long if we can't even trust one another to watch our backs!"

"Yeah…yeah, y-y-you're right. I'm sorry…it's—it's just that—"

"The mutations are faster than we thought," Mahmoud offered, "I was not expecting these 'Special Infected' to be in our area this soon. The one that attacked Roxy must have been a 'Smoker.'"

"Obviously," Roxy muttered under her breath then spoke up, "Mahmoud, are we certain it's not an airborne virus? Steve and I inhaled a fair amount of the smoke that _thing_ left behind."

"We are doctors, Roxanne. Let us try not to identify the Infected as '_things_.' They are still people—extremely sick people, but people nonetheless. To answer your question, I'm positive it's not airborne, however," he took hold of Roxy's wrist and examined the multiple cuts and contusions in her skin she had sustained from the struggle, "you may have to be quarantined for a little while…just in case."

"Where are you going to keep me?" Roxy asked softly but sarcastically, "There's no place to go but back outside where the Infected are swarming just waiting for easy prey."

"I'm not going to send you to the wolves. There is a room over here where we will be able to observe you safely from the outside. We will have to barricade the door, but I figure you understand that."

Roxy nodded silently. _Maybe it was a mistake to release those Infected in the hospital,_ she though regretfully, _if I hadn't, I wouldn't have jeopardized myself._ Suddenly, she felt a comforting hand on her shoulder. She looked up to see Angelica standing next to her.

"And what if she turns?" Angelica asked.

"We…" Mahmoud hesitated, "we will have to leave her behind."

"That's not fair! If it wasn't for Roxy, we wouldn't have known what CEDA was up to. She believes in a cure more than any of us, surely we could do better than just leave her behind!"

Roxy suddenly found herself smiling in spite of her situation; "Nah," she said, "I knew the risks venturing out here, and the possibility of getting infected was one of them. However, if I _do_ happen to turn, at least do me the respect of putting me out of my misery."

Mahmoud laughed at this as he doctored Roxy's wounds with antibiotic ointment and gauze wrap he found in one of the first aid kits; "I'm sorry," he chuckled, "I'm sure you didn't mean to be funny, but for someone who got over-zealous against euthanizing a roomful of Infected, you sure chose an odd way to go."

"There's a difference," Roxy shrugged indifferently, "they didn't ask for death, and they were told they were going to be _cured_ not _killed_. As for me, I already know there isn't a cure yet, and there's no telling how long it will take to find one. It wouldn't be safe to let me live."

"If that is your wish, then far be it from me to dishonor it."

Once he finished patching Roxy up, Mahmoud directed her to the isolated room and gave her the provisions he felt she would need for the night. The police station was well-equipped to accommodate several overnight stays especially that of recently-arrested individuals, so it was fairly easy to find supplies.

Roxy settled herself inside the small room which seemed to be little more than an expanded storage closet. She dug through the supply pack Mahmoud had provided her and pulled out a digital thermometer and a couple twin-wrapped packages of ibuprofen. _If I _am_ infected,_ she observed and diagnosed, _the first sign will be an abnormally high fever then persistent migraines accompanied by acute vomiting and sensitivity to light and sound. If nothing else, I might at least be able to ease some of the suffering I may endure._ She made a pallet for herself on the floor and set a timer to remind herself to check her temperature every hour. After checking it once and finding it normal, Roxy curled up in her makeshift bed and fell into a deep but uneasy sleep.

* * *

The Next Morning

The next morning, Roxy was awakened by an insistent pounding on the door. She sat up, yawned, and rubbed her eyes sleepily. For a moment, she forgot where she was, but when she saw all the opened packs of medicine surrounding her on the floor, her memory jogged.

"All right, all right!" she shouted groggily, "I'm up! Stop with the banging!"

"Roxy?" Stephen's voice reached her ears, "You're still you?"

"Yeah, I guess…" _No thanks to you,_ "and I'm hungry. Did the cops around here believe in doughnuts or what?"

The response came in the screeching of furniture and other random objects being removed from the other side of the door. Roxy was immediately greeted by four familiar faces filled with concern and relief at the same time. Mahmoud approached her first to personally check her vitals and pupil dilation. Testing normal, Roxy found herself being embraced by the older man resulting in the others forming a group hug around her.

"Okay, guys," Roxy protested, "Guys! Guys! Can't breathe now!"

They all backed off apologetically, but Mahmoud continued to examine her; "Were there any complications at all?" he asked methodically, "Temperature changes? Swelling? Pain?"

"Nothing major; my temp spiked several times through the night, but it was never over one-oh-one point two degrees—nothing a little ibuprofen couldn't handle."

"I see. Roxy, I believe you are immune to the effects of the virus. This could work to our advantage when formulating an immunization or even a full-blown cure. Now this is not to say you couldn't still carry the virus and spread to someone else, so be meticulous when washing your hands after doing _anything_—all of us. We must get back to the lab and run some tests before the military arrives."

"Do we still want to stop by the zoo for tranquilizer guns?" Allison asked.

"Yes, but we must be careful. The Infected do not seem to be fond of the daylight, but that will not deter them completely from attacking if they spot us."

The conversation continued, but Roxy was not concerned with the "game plan" at the moment, as her focus was on the prevalent grumbling in her empty stomach; "Um, excuse me," she demanded, "I hate to put a damper on the celebration here, but unless we get some nourishment into our bodies, we won't even have enough strength the _crawl_ to the zoo."

Everyone quickly agreed as they suddenly realized their own hunger and began ravaging the area for food. Angelica peeked out the small window of the newly-barricaded armory door and, seeing no Infected around, she informed the others; after all, the only way out was back the way they came in. Mahmoud slowly and quietly removed the steel bar barricade from the door, and they all stepped out of the room. He had instructed everyone to revert to sign language just to be safe and also to make directional signs on any visible surface pointing the way to the safe house they had set up. It was imperative that any and all able survivors have access to vital resources to aid them on their way to evacuation.

The police station was completely deserted after the skirmish from the night before. Other than the dead bodies of zombies strewn about the floor, there was absolutely no sight or sound of the Infected anywhere. This allowed the five doctors to explore every inch of the station in relative peace. They found food and water in mini-refrigerators in various offices of former cops, and once they took their fill, they stocked the safe room and left the station behind.

The streets were fairly quiet save for the random song of a Mourning Dove or buzzing of insects. Most disheartening were the vultures circling overhead and vicariously swooping down to pick at the rotting corpses scattered about. Still, the birds and insects were a subject of interest to Roxy.

[_Why don't they seem affected by the virus?_] she signed to the others.

[_Rabies_] Allison answered [_only affects mammalian organisms, so naturally, birds, bugs, reptiles, fish, and amphibians are immune._]

[_Makes sense…it doesn't explain why I'm immune, but I'll just bet the zoo won't mind us taking a few test subjects._]

[_We'll discuss it later_] Mahmoud cut in [_when we can speak freely._]

He pointed to a large double-gate that marked the entrance to the zoo. It was chained up so tight that even an assault tank could not get through in less than five tries, and the vertical bars left climbing the gate out of the question. Stephen patted Mahmoud's shoulder to get his attention then thrust his thumb at a felled steel ladder a few feet south of the main entrance. Mahmoud nodded then signaled to the women to follow. The two men hoisted up the ladder while the ladies climbed up and over the wall. Then Mahmoud went over while Stephen spotted. Finally, Stephen climbed up, and once he made it to the ledge, he kicked the ladder away and jumped down to the other side.

"Well," he said aloud as he dusted himself off from the fall, "that was easier than I thought it would be."

When no one responded, Stephen turned around and immediately saw why. Staring the five survivors down hungrily was a large male lion that appeared to have broken free of its enclosure. It was foaming profusely at the mouth mingled with the blood of a recent kill. Its mane and body were afflicted with mange which the animal more likely than not had prior to contracting the _Green_ _Flu_ virus, the effects having been sped up afterwards. No one dared to move or speak, fearing the reaction of the infected animal as it snarled and gnashed its teeth at them. Somehow, they managed to stand their ground. In normal circumstances, the lion would have become disinterested in stationary target, but he was clearly in pain and driven mad—and these were clearly _not_ normal circumstances. Mahmoud slowly moved his hand towards his gun, but the cat saw the motion and sprang! Everyone split in opposite directions as the beast pounced, slamming into the brick wall behind them. The impact did not even phase the creature as it quickly regained its footing and prepared for round two. However, before it could even move, a single gunshot was hear and saw the lion fall hard. Because it was a shotgun, everyone looked at Roxy.

"Wasn't me," she shrugged.

"No, it was me," said a tall, well-built man off to their right, "Follow me, survivors. It's not safe out in the open, as you know."

The small medical staff followed the man without question into a reinforced and barricaded animal pen that had been in disuse by the zoo for some time. Along the way, Roxy took notice of each enclosure in the park. The vast majority of the animal population had been shot down due to infection, but there also seemed to be just as many mammals that were unaffected by the Green Flu. The rest of the animals were non-mammalian creatures, quite immune to the virus as Allison had predicted they would be.

Inside the safe room, the guide re-barricaded the door and turned to the visitors; "Good to see a few more human faces," he said as he removed his fedora and set his gun aside, "The name's Richard Daily. Most people call me—um, used to call me, 'Race.' I was the senior animal handler here at the zoo for the past fifteen years. You are?"

"I am Dr. Mahmoud Shahabaz," the Iranian said, "senior medical scientist at Oklahoma City Hospital. These are my colleagues: Doctors Stephen Knox, Allison Drew, Angelica Pedro, and Roxanne Dominic."

Roxy moved to correct her title but Stephen discreetly stopped her; "Just go with it," he whispered, "he'll be none the wiser."

"Doctors, huh?" Race scoffed, "Fine job you did containing that virus."

"That wasn't our responsibility;" Mahmoud informed him calmly, "CEDA was given jurisdiction over all things concerning this epidemic, and the hospitals and science labs had no say in the handling of the situation."

"Figures. CEDA can't do anything right. So, what brings you here? One would think it wiser to avoid a zoo in times like these."

Mahmoud then explained their situation and plan. Specifically, he laid mention to their need for tranquilizer weapons for safely catching Infected. At Race's skeptical look, Mahmoud emphasized that his team were doctors and that their top priority was saving lives including those of the Infected. Furthermore, he explained how close they were to finding a cure, calling attention to Roxy's apparent immunity to the virus and that through studying other immune creatures, they might be able to perfect that cure. Race did not seem very impressed, but he did appear convinced, which was all the team needed.

"I see," he said, "Well, I can easily hook you up with some top-of-the-line guns, but the zoo only has a limited supply of darts on hand. I…kinda used most of 'em to deal with Infected: human and animal alike."

"Can't we use common hospital syringes?" Angelica asked.

"If you have the skill, I suppose you could modify one of the older models to do that. Otherwise, you can easily get more darts at the hunting shop two blocks east of here. I'll give you half of what I got, and that should hold you for a while. Also, if you seriously think some of these animals are immune, take some with you. I don't kill what's not trying to kill me, so there's plenty to choose from."

Race lead them back out through the zoo towards the storehouse where the weapons were kept, popping off random Infected here and there. There really were not very many zombies to worry about within the zoo's walls, so the survivors disregarded potential ambush spots. The noon sun also seemed to discourage most of the lone prowlers. Suddenly, Roxy felt something on her shoulder.

"Oh, shit!" she screamed as she violently shoved it off her.

"What is it?" Race turned around quickly to see what was going on.

"Something jumped on me! It's over there!"

Roxy pointed in the direction she had pushed her assailant. Race pushed forward slowly into the shadowed area to investigate then laughed when her heard angry chittering.

"Oh, it's just you, Danté," he smiled, "Come out here, boy."

The man held his right arm akimbo to allow a black and tan Capuchin monkey onto his elbow. Even though no one else was laughing, Roxy blushed slightly in embarrassment from being scared by a monkey. Regardless of having been thrown from Roxy's shoulder, Danté jumped straight from Race's into Roxy's arms.

"He likes you, Dr. Dominic," Race said, "Danté was the only member of his family to not be affected by the virus."

"He's cute," Roxy admitted, "at least now that I know what he is."

"Feel free to take him with you; he's gonna follow you anyway, and I highly doubt the zoo will notice him missing. All right, we keep the tranquilizers in here. Take what you need, just be careful not to overload yourselves. The last thing you want to be is live bait."

By the time the doctors gathered what they needed, the sun had gone down. Race then insisted that they all stay the night in his safe house; "I'm sure you already know they are more active at night," he said, "and the zoo's high walls won't keep them out for long. They're probably getting restless right now, so let's head back. I've got plenty of space and food."

There were no hesitations as zombies could already be heard just outside the walls. Sleep would not come easy that night, but at least it would come at all.


End file.
